


She's Gotta Be Strong

by mzhlf



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/F, Fluff, Humor, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-17
Updated: 2017-07-04
Packaged: 2018-11-15 06:13:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11225010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mzhlf/pseuds/mzhlf
Summary: What Astra In-Ze signed up for: using her powers for the greater good. What Astra In-Ze didn't realize she was signing up for: dealing with human beings and all their silliness. Needless to say, being a superhero is a lot more complicated than it sounds.Since this is an ongoing one-shot/drabble collection, I'm counting the second chapter as my entry for General Danvers Week 2 - Superhero AU.





	1. The One With The Hair

**Author's Note:**

> Awhile back, I wrote a dirty 200-word fic on Tumblr that grew as I kept on getting headcanons for the same universe. So, here's a collection of snapshots into Astra's misadventures, with regular appearances from her favorite people.
> 
> This is going to be pure unbetaed silliness, folks.

Daniel Patterson owns a lot of stuff: the storage room in the back of his downtown art studio has been cluttered ever since he leased the space in 1989.

For nearly three decades, sketchbooks, wooden models, erasers, charcoal pencils, and that bit of wiring behind one of the shelves have all coexisted peacefully. It’s a tight squeeze, but they hardly ever fight. Prolonged companionship has made them into bosom buddies. A charming, inanimate, found family.

Or so those pesky art supplies assume.

Unwieldy photo references lying around they own the place. Crusty paint brushes in their big tin cans with their bristles pointing upward like they’re so special. A blank canvas leaning against the wall, oozing pretense from every unpainted inch.

The wire has been gracious and hospitable, but these upstarts continue to crowd into its space without a single word of gratitude or apology. If it had the ability to feel, it would be overcome with contempt. After wasting its youth on nearly thirty years of compromise, it has finally had enough.

A finger presses up on the light switch. This is not an unusual occurrence. An electrical current zips toward that minuscule outcropping of frayed copper. This is not unusual either. The neglected wire spits out the tiniest of sparks, which ignites against a can of spray paint, which subsequently bursts into flames. This, not even the watercolors see coming, those insufferable know-it-alls.

The fire spreads within seconds, fueled by oil paint, fixative, and dry summer heat.

By the time passersby notice something amiss, thick smoke is already pouring out from the windows. Across the street, two panicked voices turn into three. A man in a business suit helps an elderly woman hobble away to safety. A tinny voice drones from someone’s cell phone - _911 operator. How may I help you?_

Amidst the mounting pandemonium, Mr. Patterson quickly ushers his two children outside.

“Go with Christie,” he imparts to his son. “Be good for her, okay?”

The little boy nods, sniffling. His father kisses him before handing him off to his sister.

“Don’t stop running till you get to the other side of that intersection,” he instructs her solemnly.

The girl, who is just barely a teenager, looks suspiciously between the twist of his torso and his hand on the doorway. “Dad. You can't possibly be thinking of - the building’s, like, _literally_ on fire, Dad.”

The man twists to look behind him at his most prized possessions. Majestic landscapes mounted on the walls. Intricate still lifes leaning behind the counter. Photo-realistic studies of his loved ones. A signed cardboard cutout of Carrie Fisher, close to where the smoke is thickest.

 _Signed_ , he’d emphasize, by the _late_ Carrie Fisher.

The flames are mostly concentrated toward the back. If he huddles low and holds his breath, maybe he can just -

“Come on, Dad, don’t do the stubborn thing,” she pleads. “Kylo Ren did the stubborn thing.”

But it’s too late. There is fire in his eyes - though that might simply be a reflection of the actual fire. Beneath it, there is mania.

“I’ll be right out, peanut - now go!” He pushes her away, pulling the bottom of his t-shirt over his nose as if that would filter out the smoke, and rushing in to - indeed - do the stubborn thing. The glass door swings shut behind him.

The boy screams.

“Oh my fucking shit, I can’t fucking believe it,” Christie mutters through clenched teeth, clamping a hand over her brother's ear that's closest to her mouth, while getting the hell out of dodge.

Just as they reach the other end of the crosswalk, a heavy wooden beam collapses near the entrance in a shower of embers. There is no sign of their father.

The expletives stop. Christie’s face goes white. The onlookers fall silent.

They can just barely hear the faint sound of sirens; by the time they arrive, it’ll be too late. The boy cries as his sister rocks him in her arms.

Seconds later, his crying stops: something has caught his attention.

A woman with thick glasses standing nearby follows his gaze skyward to a quickly approaching shadow with air currents trailing in its wake.

“Is that…?” She squints.

It’s quite clearly not a bird. Nor does it particularly resemble a plane.

Only when it’s close enough for her to notice the streak in its hair does confusion brighten into recognition. “It’s… it’s _her_ !” She points, bouncing up and down in a pair of carnation-pink flats. Her mouth works soundlessly for a moment as her mind fails to produce an alias. “ _The one with the hair_ has come to save the day!”

The murmurs suddenly cease. Every head in the vicinity looks toward the sky in unison. Every mouth gasps. The children’s faces are caught between despair and hope.

The shadowy figure plummets to the ground faster than their eyes can follow. They wince from the collective whiplash.

They _oooh_ in anticipation as she lands on her feet not two steps away from the burning building.

They _ahhh_ in awe as she calmly strides forth and strolls through the smoky room, blowing the fire out in one epic, icy exhale like too many candles on a birthday cake.

And finally, they erupt into thunderous applause as she majestically re-emerges, with the dumbest dad of the decade thrown over her shoulder like a sack of potatoes, a giant stack of paintings piled up in her other hand, and a smiling Princess Leia balanced on top looking none the worse for the wear.

\--

“ _The one with the hair_?” Astra repeats indignantly at the image of one fifteen-year-old Christine Patterson gushing on the eight o’ clock news about the hero who saved her family.

Kara gives her a sympathetic look across the dinner table, a forkful of lasagna halfway to her mouth. “You saved her family, Aunt Astra. She had to call you _something_.”

“Hm. And here I thought I had a name for that very purpose.”

“You do,” Alex is quick to reassure her, “and it’s a stellar name -”

“Why thank you,” Astra says, preening a little.

“- but no one knows it except for our friends.”

This is an undeniable fact, but Astra will not be so easily dissuaded from her righteous disgruntlement. “Others might if they’d simply ask. Several have.” She pauses with a thoughtful frown. “Though they always seem unduly surprised when I answer them.”

The sisters share a non-verbal look that Astra finds rather suspicious.

Kara tries her best to explain. “I guess there are - well, not rules per se, but common practices, when it comes to superheroes. Conventional stuff.”

“Astra In-Ze isn't exactly what they expect,” Alex adds.

Astra looks affronted. “How silly. Why even go to the trouble of asking for someone’s name if -”

Kara cuts her off with a placating hand. “It’s nothing personal - I mean, I'd probably get a few looks if I went around introducing myself as Kara Zor-El. They’re just looking for something more along the lines of…" Her shoulders move up in an apologetic sort of shrug. "...Supergirl?”

Alex nods, finding Kara's explanation more than satisfactory, and they wait a moment for that to sink in. And when it does, Astra's expression is not unlike Kara’s that one time Alex made her try chocolate-covered crickets in New York City.

“They expect a superhero name? From _me?_ ”

A pair of awkward smiles are her only answer.


	2. It's About The Brand

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright! Since this is a loosely connected series of one-shots, I'm counting chapter two as my entry for GDW2 Day Two. Wow, that's a lot of two's.

“What about Superwoman?” Alex asks from the sink as she’s drying the dishes.

“You _are_ a woman with superpowers,” Kara is quick to point out, shrugging innocently when Alex shoots her look of wry amusement. “I’m just sayin’.”

“It would certainly be more honest than _some_ superhero names,” Astra agrees, ignoring Alex’s eye-roll at the none-too-subtle shade.

A week ago, someone made the mistake of mentioning Gotham City’s masked vigilante in Astra’s presence. The General had assumed there was an actual bat-man hybrid out there protecting people, had been terribly excited about it too, and Alex had to be the one to break it to her.

_“So he can’t fly. Or echolocate,” Astra said, repeating Alex’s information back to her as if she had just informed her that the moon was actually made of cheese._

_“Right,” Alex confirmed._

_“He’s neither a man-sized bat nor a bat-sized man,” Astra continued._

_“Right,” Alex confirmed again._

_“And he has no bat-like characteristics whatsoever beneath the costume,” Astra ventured further._

_“I’ve never exactly checked, but that would be my understanding, yeah,” Alex included a small disclaimer this time, not that it seemed to diminish Astra’s mounting annoyance._

_“Well that’s rather underwhelming isn’t it?” Astra said with a frown, “I could just as easily hold a pair of donuts over my eyes and call myself Breadwoman.”_

_“I think bats are a little bit cooler than donuts,” Alex defended._

_“By whose arbitrary standard?” Astra challenged, looking more than a little offended, and scoffed in frustration when Alex merely responded with a shrug._

“An honest name is definitely the way to go,” Astra decides with a conclusive nod. “And besides,” she adds, “Kara is the one of the most formidable warriors in the galaxy. Anyone should be proud to share her name.”

“Awwwww, gee Aunt Astra.” Kara gets all starry-eyed, resembling nothing more than the bright young girl on Krypton who thought Astra was the wisest, most powerful person in the universe. “D’you really think so?”

“Have I given you reason to doubt my sincerity?” Astra counters with a rather pointed tilt of her head.

“Oh, not at all!” her niece is quick to placate.

“Hm,” Astra hums in mock-thoughtfulness. “And yet here you are questioning it. How very uncouth. It’s almost as if you were raised by humans.” The playfulness in her expression removes any real bite from her words, and she laughs when Kara sticks her tongue out.

Alex watches their antics affectionately. Now that Kara has mostly repaired her relationship with her aunt, it seems that something within her has healed along with it. She is brighter, more child-like. Alex knows that being around Eliza for too long reverts her back to some of her old teenage behavior; perhaps being around Astra is the same for Kara. She wonders if their more light-hearted interactions hint at what Kara was like as a young girl.

Of course, having a fellow superhero to share her burdens with also helps, even if Astra’s sharp tongue occasionally lands them in trouble. “You know,” Alex says, “I think you’d get along great with Kara’s boss.”

Kara gasps. “She _would_!”

“...though it could just as easily turn into World War III,” Alex finishes her thought, glancing knowingly at Astra, who arches her eyebrow at the unspoken accusation.

“Oh, come on. They wouldn’t _necessarily_ try to out-sass each other,” Kara says, enjoying the thought of all her favorite people in one place, which would certainly be easier if they all got along. Come to think of it, she’s pleasantly surprised at how much time Alex and Astra have been spending together, even without her around. It really makes her happy to see them becoming such good pals.

“Indeed, such juvenile one-upsmanship would only bore me,” Astra chimes in, and Kara gives her an appreciative smile. “No human could ever hope to match a Kryptonian general’s keen wit, Queen of Media or no.”

Kara’s smile slips off her face and she gapes in shock. “Aunt Astra!” she gasps, but her admonishment goes unheeded as Astra’s peering slyly at Alex with an expression that might resemble the troll face if the troll face were gorgeous. Clearly her inflammatory remark was meant to elicit a reaction.

Alex wipes her hands on the dish towel. And very calmly sets it down.

“Y’know,” she begins almost conversationally, hands going to her hips, “I just think it’s funny how you have this massive superiority complex, when just two days ago, you were eating french fries at the most expensive Chinese buffet in National City.”

“Oh no,” Kara mutters, already kicking her mental voice for speaking too soon.

“One simply never knows when a craving might strike,” Astra justifies nonchalantly.

“You sobbed so hard during Finding Dory, I didn’t realize the one-gallon tub of vanilla ice cream wasn’t salted-caramel flavored until I glimpsed the label as I was throwing it away,” Alex deadpans.

Kara winces.

“I am not ashamed of my emotions,” Astra proclaims.

Kara nods in wholehearted approval.

Alex is just getting started. “You’ve been listening to Christina Aguilera on repeat for months now, and it’s 2017.”

“I am beautiful, no matter what they say,” Astra delivers with a perfectly straight face.

Kara facepalms.

“You wear toe socks into bed,” Alex accuses.

“Ooohhh kaayyy!” Kara interjects loudly. “Not that a tiny, masochistic part of me isn’t morbidly curious as to how you know that, but we’re getting slightly off topic here.”

But Alex, who’s only gotten more irate at Astra’s unflappability, isn’t quite finished yet. “You - “

“ _Superwoman_! Wonderful! I’ll give you a couple of my spare suits, and then you can say goodbye to awkward epithets forever! Hooray!”

Astra double takes at Kara’s words, and holds up a finger in the classical pose of someone suddenly having second thoughts. “Wait a minute. I will not have my own suit?”

“We can get a few more made,” Kara says agreeably. “That’s actually a great idea. You could also tweak the design a little bit to really make it your own.”

A few tweaks. Alright, that Astra can manage.

Astra opens her imagination to all the different possibilities. It would have to be both sharp and practical, something she’d feel comfortable in. “Something in black or dark gray, perhaps,” she thinks out loud. “Although we could add some maroon trim to make it exciting.”

Alex and Kara smile nervously at each other as Alex reclaims her chair.

“Or how about reflective material that shifts with my surroundings for enhanced stealth? Our snipers and scouts used to wear those. I admit, I was more than a bit jealous.”

Alex and Kara shrug and nod at each other before looking back at her. “Sure, I guess.” “It’d be practical, yeah.”

“And that crest will have to go,” she continues, “it’s a bit gaudy for my tastes.”

Kara pouts just a little.

“No cape either - too impractical. But, oh! Maybe a pair gauntlets for concealed weaponry.”

Alex and Kara exchange another long, apprehensive look. Ironically enough, this is actually something Cat might be able to explain better than either of them.

Alex makes an attempt nonetheless.

“Astra? Love your ideas. You have the most excellent taste of any Kryptonian general I know.”

“Thank you Alexandra,” Astra says, smiling proudly.

“But with Kal-El doing his thing and Kara doing hers, the Super prefix has… kind of become its own brand.”

“We’re sort of like Lamborghinis,” Kara tries to explain, though the comparison only makes Astra wrinkle her brow in confusion. “You know, how people expect them to be powerful, with sleek designs and doors that open upward?”

“I was not aware that you had _any_ doors built into your suit,” Astra comments. “That’s quite clever.”

“Noo, that’s not what I- ” Kara sighs, clearly regretting her wording.

“Point is, with a name like Superwoman, you’re gonna need to fit the theme,” Alex says, “or people might get confused or even disgruntled.”

Kara nods sagely. “Your suit will have to be in red and blue,” she says, shooting Astra an apologetic look when she deflates a little.

“The red cape is iconic,” Alex adds. “So that’s gonna have to stay.”

“And everyone assumes the crest stands for Super, so that should probably also be included.”

On this, Astra decides to argue back. “I’m not in the House of El. And besides, why should I be held accountable for human ignorance?”

“You shouldn’t,” Alex agrees. “But do you really wanna answer questions like, ‘whatever happened to the logo?’ Or, ‘since you don’t have the Super sign, should we just call you Woman?’”

Astra groans. “Oh, for Rao’s sake. Let’s consider some other names.”

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, by silly, I really did mean silly. If you groaned, or laughed, or rolled your eyes, I'd love to know about it. Feedback is awesome, and I definitely welcome constructive criticism.
> 
> I have quite a number of these planned, but might be slow in getting them up due to GDW. Thanks for reading.


End file.
